Friday Night, October 21,2011
by MidKnight Rider
Summary: A future-fic in which 4 couples celebrate each other on a Friay night. First up - Sam and Jack. Next - Daniel and my OC Jillian; then Mitchell and Vala; finally Teal'c and Ishta
1. Chapter 1

Four couples on a Fall night, three of them on Earth.

(0)

The wind gusted in the entranceway, swirling dry leaves around her feet and her hand shook a little as she put the key in the lock of the house she and Jack had spent a month reclaiming. She walked in shrugging out of her coat and calling,

"Jack?"

"Bedroom."

Sam opened the closet door and pulled out a hangar.

"Good," she said, "Stay there and get hard. You're all I could think about all the way home."

From the direction of the long hallway that led to their bedrooms Jack replied in a deliberately deferential voice,

"Is that an order General?" He paused and then added, "Or is it, Exalted Queen?"

Sam stopped as she closed the closet door, inhaled on a flash of temper. She put her head and the palms of her hands on the door, closed her eyes and counted to ten. With her eyes still closed she said,

"Who called you?" If it was Daniel she'd murder him on Monday.

"Daniel," Jack called back.

She took a breath and pushed off the door.

"It wasn't his fault! He wasn't translating anything. It was the Gate."

"He knows," Jack answered. "Doesn't mean he doesn't feel guilty."

"He's not usually that much of an idiot. There wasn't anything he could have done."

Sam went into the kitchen and got two bottles of Coors off the shelf in the fridge. She sighed a bit.

They had hosted a delegation from a planet on a similar technological and cultural level to Earth. They had known their Stargate would travel to other worlds but had very limited addresses. They were anxious to establish a relationship and everything had gone fine until they realized the Gate had somehow translated General to the Exalted Queen.

She'd continued the visit until she had been called away and as far as she knew Daniel had eventually straightened out the misunderstanding.

From the bedroom Jack yelled again. "Are you coming to yon Royal bedroom or do you want me to come out and do you on the dining room table again? Your Majesty."

Sam started to get annoyed again and then realized she just wanted to laugh.

Okay so on the cosmic scale of things that could get screwed up this wasn't even a hiccup. It certainly wasn't personally as bad as the time she'd been confused as being Jack's concubine instead of his second-in-command. The paperwork would even be minimal.

But sometimes she understood why Jack had willingly given up command of the SGC. It was a temporary assignment for her until they both went back to D.C. and she took over R & D of alien technologies. Sometimes she counted the days until she could hand command over to someone else.

But she couldn't resist Jack in any mood. She really couldn't resist him in playful mode.

"Is that any way to talk to your queen?" she said as she started down the hall towards the bedroom. "Besides I thought we were saving the dining room table for alternate Mondays."

She found Jack sitting up on the bed with his back against the headboard and his legs stretched out in front of him. His right hand was moving up and down against his crouch, fingers curled around the hard column shaping the fabric of his sweats. The look on his face was mischief mixed with pure lust. He already had his shirt off.

Sam tripped on the carpet. Her throat went dry but she took a long drink from the Coors bottle and when she could speak she managed a teasing tone.

"What are you doing?"

"Try to comply with your wishes, Oh Queen of my heart," he answered. "But now that you're in the room with me, that's all I needed."

Sam sauntered slowly over to the bed and put the Coors bottles on the nightstand. She leaned over, crawled onto the bed with feline sexuality and placed a gentle kiss on his mouth.

"So you're prepared to do my bidding tonight?"

He smiled, kissed her, slipped his hand into her hair and cradled the side of her face.

"Like I don't worship at your feet already, Exalted One," he said.

"Stop it!" But she was laughing.

Jack turned towards her as she sat down beside him, took her face between his hands and kissed her again. Her heart jumped as their lips met and he coaxed hers apart, worrying her bottom lip, tilting his head as his tongue danced against hers. Sam sank into his arms, melted, let all the tension of the day run out of her body.

She enjoyed the feeling of being held in a strong man's arms, in Jack's arms. She enjoyed the sensation of trusting him and the warm pools of desire that were starting to eddy in her bloodstream.

She was smiling when they parted.

"Tell me how to serve you, Royal One," he said.

Sam slipped her hand first between his legs and then up over the erection straining the front of his sweats.

"I think you know what to do." She was trying hard not to laugh because he sounded so serious.

Jack pulled her in close again. Capturing her mouth again with his, he proceeded to kiss her again; not tentatively but not possessive or hurried, either. He had nowhere to go, nothing to do but this.

_I could get used to this_, she thought, _God, I am used to this._

She'd wanted him since leaving the Base, wanted to come home to him, to _this._

He kissed along her jawline, nuzzled her ear. "Is this what you want?" he asked her, breathing just a little, the warm moist air making her shudder, before he captured her earlobe between his teeth.

"Yeah," she breathed back. She was a little startled. Jack rarely spoke once he got serious about their intimacy. He thought voices interfered and he tried to stay out of her head while he was speaking to her body only with his.

"Okay," he said and then they made out like teenagers in the backseat of a car for a long time.

Sam didn't know how long it went on; but it seemed much later when she surfaced for a moment. She felt warm and soft, wrapped in something protective. Damn he was good at this.

Her heart felt lighter every time his breath swept across her throat, every time she could hear him from just a centimeter away making soft sounds of pleasure. Her body was throbbing and warm now, ready to welcome him.

"Do you want me to?" he asked softly.

"Want you to - _oh, god_,Jack - what?" She had no idea what he was asking about. His hands had slid around her waist; one had traveled up her rib cage and was cupping her breast, through the fabric of her clothing.

"Want me to make love to you?" He asked. "I'm still waiting for your orders, being your lowly servant and all."

"Oh…. Yeah," she said, utterly breathless and leaning against him.

Jack moved her down the bed with an arm behind her shoulders and one under her knees. Slowly undressing her he said,

"So what am I? Man servant? Driver? Valet? Stable boy?"

A laugh gurgled out of her. "Stable boy?" she repeated and then groaned as he got her shirt over her head and lowered his head to her breasts. "What about love slave?"

Jack grinned and sucked lightly on her neck. "Already that," he murmured.

They got naked and finally got under the covers and Sam had enough functioning brain matter to be glad that crawling around on his knees no longer hurt him.

"Did you walk today?" she asked.

"Five miles on the treadmill, then went for a two mile jog," he answered as he settled down beside her.

He was still technically on medical leave and rehab after his knee surgeries, but he had worked hard to get back into shape.

Her hands were busy appreciating that particular shape and seeing what sounds she could pull out of him. Her hand glided down and pushed against his cock, teasing until he grunted and pushed back with a sharp thrust of his hips.

Okay, if he wanted to be playful he was certainly also prepared to serve her well tonight.

"Did I say you could move?" she asked.

He went still immediately but she could feel him smiling as he kissed her jaw and neck and shoulder, anywhere she would let him reach. She stretched out along the length of his body as far as she could, tucked under his chin a little, her toes brushing his ankles. He draped a leg over her, heavy and covered in rough hair, and pulled her closer with it.

Sam went on touching him: muscles, forearms, proportions, fit. Her hands went straight to her favorite spots. The contours of his chest. His belly. His waist. The hollows just next to his hips. His scars, the light jagged lines that marred the perfection of his skin and seemed ultrasensitive. His skin was so rich. She brushed her lips lightly along his neck, taking his scent. She kissed him again, slow and thorough this time. His mouth was so right. Desire flooded her body.

Jack moved then and she didn't try to stop him. He pushed her onto her back and gathered her against him, not with aggression but with clear intent. Sam surrendered.

His hands traced down the curves of her legs, trailed up her thighs to the edges where one part transformed to the next. He palmed the curves of her buttocks and slid his fingers into the crease between. Sam arched and inhaled as he played with sensitive skin, so alert, so thin and moist, so eager to be touched. He went to all the sweet places no one else in the world was going to get anywhere near. Not now.

Not now that she was his. He touched her everywhere and left nothing out. He knew her body what it did, how it responded. He touched her until he lit up the whole board and she was making small, whimpering noises and clinging to him.

He moved again so that he was on top, nudging her legs apart and pausing for just a moment.

_Like this?_

Sam nodded and tried to wriggle under him, thrusting downward and then yielding to him entirely. She went supple, pliant, moaning. Jack thrust again, and again, falling into a slow, steady rhythm, flesh tight against flesh. He moved his hand down to cup the curved muscle of a butt cheek and lifted. He worked firmly, steadily, deeply.

Sam's arms were around his neck, holding him close. He watched her response and let it fuel his own. He watched her beautiful face, the dark crescents of her lashes, the creases on her forehead and around her eyes as she started to get close.

Suddenly Sam's eyes opened, with an intense look of surprise, startlingly blue just before they lost focus and slid half closed, and her cries got sharper and breathier and very urgent. Sam surged up against him and she climaxed with a muffled series of deep sharp groans, clawing Jack's shoulder blades, trembling into him. The liquid pulsing warmth surrounding his cock pushed Jack over into orgasm. He came because she did; hard and sweet and wet and close, pulses against pulses, his mouth sought hers in a kiss that sealed them body and soul.

They came down slowly, limp and shuddering, clinging. Jack cradled her sweet female frame against him, soaking in her presence. She was making continuing helpless, groaning noises and rubbing her body along his. He kissed her and could feel her smiling.

"God I love those sounds you make," he murmured.

Sam gave a short startled laugh. "Oh yeah," she said, in a self-deprecating way, "That pathetic fucked-out-of-my-mind whining? Those sounds?"

Jack grinned and snuggled and kissed her forehead. "Yeah, those."

For a long time after that they kissed and finished the Coors and Sam thought she must have dozed for a little while before waking up to some more kissing.

"Is there anything else you require this evening, your Majesty?" Jack asked.

Sam punched her fist into his chest, but not with any force. She answered,

"You, like this, but not just for tonight. Forever."

"Done," Jack answered.

Sam sighed and put her forehead on his shoulder.

"Good," she said.

(0)


	2. Chapter 2

**This section will follow what happened to Daniel that night. In my SG world Daniel is in a relationship with an OC that was introduced in the series Sunshine and Shadow. Jillian has appeared in anything I've ever written that involves Daniel. In this they have been married since 2004 and have two children.**

**(0)**

Jillian listened calmly to the long, rambling, breathless and disjointed explanation Daniel was giving her to the simple question,

"How did it go?"

When it appeared that she was in for one of his marathon speeches, she put the phone on speaker and put it on the kitchen counter so she could finish doing her nails.

When he finally wound down she sat blinking at the phone for a moment until he finally said,

"Jill?"

"Yeah!" She answered, "Wow. We've had miscommunications before but….oh god poor Sam. You got it all straightened out though?"

"Yes," Daniel said, and she could hear the weariness and something else in his voice. "At least they understand she isn't our queen. They've stopped calling her Exaltedqueensamanthacarterun itedstatesairforce. But I wish they would just speak their own language and not even attempt English. It's just complicating the issue; and I'm going to throttle whoever left the TV on in the VIP room. Now they want to negotiate for the rights to our 'Eartherian cabular entertainmenting system'."

Jillian didn't even try to keep from laughing.

"You should be glad the adult channels are blocked," she pointed out.

Daniel muttered something she didn't catch but knew wasn't in English.

"Are you coming home?" she asked.

"Yeah," he answered, "They've gone home for the night and there isn't anything else I can do."

Jillian caught it then – the something else in his voice. Guilt. Somehow because this was about communication and translation Daniel thought it was his fault. She'd been deciphering his moods for over a decade.

"Then come home," she said, softly, enticingly, "We can go out to dinner? Relax?"

In the hesitation she heard longing mixed with hesitation.

"What about the kids?" he asked.

Jillian's lips twitched. When she had said 'dinner' Daniel had no doubt pictured Pizza Hut with booster seats and cheap crayons being used to color the backs of paper placemats and at least one incident of a cup being knocked over and spreading liquid everywhere.

But she'd been prepared weeks ago for him to be tired and out of sorts after today's schedule of events and had already made plans to counter it. Now that something had happened to make him feel guilty she was just as relieved not to have to deal with 'brooding Daniel' all night.

"Their Grandpa came to pick them up an hour ago for a sleepover movie night," Jillian said.

There was another pause, then. "Really?"

"Yes. So let's go out, just you and me, somewhere nice. I'll wear my blue dress."

Daniel sighed again. "I'd really like that. Pick out a suit and tie for me? I'll change as soon as I get home."

"Okay. I love you, Bǎobèi," Jillian said.

"Love you too," Daniel answered.

He clicked off the phone, feeling marginally better. Then he dialed his father-in-law's number.

"Hello?"

"Alex, it's Daniel."

"I thought you might be calling soon," Alexander North answered, "I suppose you'd like to talk to your offspring?"

"I would actually."

"Hang on."

Daniel could hear the muffled sound of Alexander telling his children that Dad was on the phone. It still caused a heart stopping sensation of disbelief that there were two amazing little people on the planet who called him Dad.

A moment later his daughter's voice was in his ear.

"Daddy?"

"Hi Kitten," Daniel answered, "I wanted to call and say goodnight since I wasn't home when Grandpa picked you up."

"It's okay," Katie answered, with all the solemn sincerity she could put in her little four-year old voice. "We made popcorn!"

"Did you? What movie are you going to watch?"

"Cars 2," she answered and Daniel could hear the eyeroll in her voice.

"JD won the coin toss?" Daniel guessed.

"Yeah," she said with a heavy sigh, "It's on Netflicks. Grandpa said we can watch Gnomeo and Juliet in the morning if we go right sleep tonight."

Privately Daniel thought that plan didn't have a chance of working with his son but it might work on his daughter. But give JD a couple of books and he would fall asleep reading.

"You want to say goodnight to JD?" Katie asked.

"Yes if he's there. I love you, Kitten. Have fun and I'll see you tomorrow, okay?"

"Okay. Love you too! Night, Daddy."

There was a scrambling sound and the voices of his children speaking to each other.

"It's Daddy."

"I _know_," JD said, impatient as only a six-year old could be with his baby sister. Then, "Dad?"

"Hi, Sonshine. I wanted to say goodnight. Katie said you're going to watch Cars 2?"

"Yeah," even when his son was talking over the phone, Daniel could see the expression on his face and picture the wide green eyes he had gotten from his mother. "Then Grandpa said we could look through the telescope Uncle Jack gave us before bed."

"Mom let you bring that?"

"Yeah. She said it was a good night for it."

"Tell me what you see when you get home tomorrow okay?"

"Yep," JD said, "The movie is starting, Dad."

"All right. Have fun. Love you, Sonshine."

"Love you, Dad. Goodnight."

Daniel ended the call. He felt a little better just having touched base with his family.

But successful communication was his responsibility and the delegates from P9K-990 were proving difficult. Sam had assured him that as a glitch it hardly registered but history – and Daniel's own experience – was full of incidents when a minor miscommunication caused a major problem.

The wrong word, the wrong decision, the wrong understanding and everyone's safety could be jeopardized.

At the moment he could set it aside. His wife, through some miracle of telepathy, had arranged for them to have a date night.

(0)

She was waiting for him in the entrance when he opened the door. In spite of the blustery cold outside, Daniel was stopped dead in his tracks. He'd seen her do it to men on the street, men in the SGC, men on distant worlds; and she could still stop him cold.

She was wearing the blue dress – the one that was designed to cling to every curve while still folding in on itself in artful, teasing ways that she called 'ruching'. The effect made the dress seem to flow over her like water. It had a series of straps that were more decorative than necessary. All three originated in a diamond clasp above her right breast. Two went over her right shoulder and the other made a sharp turn across her smooth skin to slip over her left shoulder.

She had on the diamond tennis bracelet he'd given her for their tenth anniversary as a couple and the diamond earrings he had given her for their fifth wedding anniversary.

And a pair of silver high heels that should be illegal.

He suspected that whatever she was wearing under the blue dress should also be illegal.

He managed to get the door closed and then tried to speak, had to clear his throat and then said,

"I'm a little underdressed."

He was still wearing his olive drab BDUs, without even having his shirt tucked in.

"I put your gray suit on the bed. Shirt and tie on the closet door."

"Okay," he said, but he was still rooted to the spot. He stood where he was, drinking her in.

No one would ever guess she was the mother of two. All that had done was fill out more lush curves and make her more feminine, more desirable. For a moment he forgot the day, the possibilities of something small becoming a monumental screw-up.

There must have been the slightest shadow of it still in eyes however because Jillian walked towards him, filled with intent, the heels bringing an even sexier sway to her hips than usual.

Before he had time to react she had his face between her hands. The heels made her taller, brought her eyes in more direct line with his.

"Listen to me, Daniel," she said. "Listen to me very carefully." She kissed him lightly to seal his attention to her. "Are you listening?"

He nodded.

"It's not always your fault," she said, "It doesn't always have to be you. You can't fix everything in the known universe. It's just not your job. Do you understand?"

She could see the frown preceding the protest. His lips parted to give it voice and she silenced him by placing her forefinger over his lips. She released his mouth only to kiss him to silence' kisses like a butterfly wing, the touch of benediction feather-light.

There was no need for him to tell her the guilt he had carried, no need to explain to her how he had been feeling. She _knew_. His hands, which had come to rest on her hips, tightened a little. When their eyes met directly again – his hidden slightly behind the reflection in his glasses- Jillian saw a loosening of some long-held deeply-buried tension, and she smiled at him.

"Go get dressed," she said, "We have reservations at the Broadmoor."

His eyebrows arched up. "How did you manage that at the last minute on a Friday night?"

"I actually made the reservations two weeks ago," she answered. When he continued to look askance at her she explained, "I knew you'd either be exhausted or want to go do something after today, so I arranged for Dad to have the kids tonight and if you didn't feel like going out we'd still have the house to ourselves and I could cancel the reservations and you'd never know."

Daniel stared at her and wondered when he had ever felt so _known._ Jillian cared for him, she cared _about_ him in ways that no one ever had.

He found her mouth again in a kiss full of promise.

He dressed quickly and took her out to one of the most romantic places in Colorado Springs. He brought along the jade dragon pendant he'd gotten her for the twelfth anniversary of their first date (even though all they remembered was that it had been in the fall of 1999 and they had gone out for Chinese food.) He slipped it under her napkin while she was talking to their server about the wine list.

The look on her face when she found it was worth it.

They ate and talked and danced and finally went home. Jillian had a thing for him in suits and he had a thing for Jillian in cocktail dresses so they were on each other before the front door had a chance to close.

They left a trail of clothing from the entranceway to the bedroom. Their lovemaking was not the rushed passion furtively snatched during the day at the SGC, nor the sweetness of sex in the early morning hours before the children woke up. This was the profound wordless intensity of unity, of communion, of being nothing but of the other. Their movements were languorous and deep, unhurried and powerful, unsullied and untouched by the present confusing state of the galaxy. Release came for both of them in a slow breaking wave that crested forever, cleansing and transforming and connected.

And then the warm backwash, the slow receding tide, leaving them softly sated, hands and limbs entwined, both listening to the cadence of slowing pulses and deepening breaths, wrapped in each other.

"I love you," Daniel murmured, just before falling asleep.

"I love you too," she answered.

(0)


	3. Chapter 3

Vala danced a step back and swung her gloved fists the way he had taught her – right, left, duck an incoming swing. The move caught Mitchell off guard but his reflexes and training made him quick enough to dance out of the way.

He almost made it. Her glove connected with his jaw – red and sheened in sweat, the way he looked during sex. He turned his head with the blow and sidestepped away, grinning.

Vala moved back again too, but stayed light on her toes, watching him warily.

Two weeks tracking down a missing colony of Jaffa on P5K-6897 and she'd almost gone stir crazy from the boredom. So had Mitchell. They had finally found them and discovered they had decided to relocate further from the Stargate due to constant flooding in the area. By the time they had hiked back both of them were ready to raise Hell somewhere.

Except that there was nowhere waiting for Hell to be raised.

All was quiet, way too quiet for two people who lived for the adrenaline rush and had been going kick-ass through the Gate for the last four years – toppling dictators, helping allies forge new cities and towns out of the wilderness, exploring some of the most remotes places in the galaxy and using Vala's sometimes questionable contacts to procure technologies for Earth.

They were no longer SG1. They were a team of two, who sometimes asked Teal'c or Daniel to accompany them and had a team of experts they'd personally trained at their disposal. They were the SGC equivalent of Black Ops.

It was Cameron who had tracked her down in their quarters and tossed the pair of red gloves at her.

"Let's go," he'd said.

He knew her well.

All those thoughts went through her head but didn't distract her from the man moving on the balls of his feet with his fists raised, just in front of her. But then again, little distracted her from Mitchell now that she had stopped looking in the wrong direction.

When she had finally stopped looking into Daniel's eyes and seeing only someone who wanted her to change and into the eyes of someone who not only wanted the hard-edged, independent rebellious mercenary but adored her for it.

By loving her unconditionally, just as she was, and seeing the true value of her experience, Mitchell had untamed her and set her free all at the same time.

So now she is totally aware of him, hyper aware of him, too much to be distracted and get blindsided by the punch Mitchell threw at her. She blocked it and punched his ribs. She feinted back, not pressing the advantage but trying not to be obvious about it. They are both battle tough and warrior trained, both proven over and over -and over- and she knew she couldn't beat him in a straight up fight unless he was off his game. But he knew what she could do and this was a game of minds as well as brawn.

Vala and Mitchell circled each other, both looking for an opening. She was getting a little turned on by the whole thing.

"That the best you have, Mitchell?" she asked, "I think the prowess of your entire gender may be in question."

It was always 'Mitchell' unless they were in bed, where it was always 'Cameron'.

Mitchel gave her a feral flash of teeth in answer. Vala jabbed but his head moved in the same second and she only caught air.

It still startled him.

"Hey! What part of _friendly_ sparring didn't you understand?"

She flashed him back the same feral smile but took in the way his stance changed, closing and going defensive. His blue eyes narrowed. His hands came up again.

She stepped in and threw a hard, perfect uppercut. Mitchell blocked and answered, hitting her hard in the face. She staggered back, stunned, but he followed, hitting her low on her side. Vala swung around on her heel and slammed an elbow into Mitchell's ribs and then into his jaw when it briefly doubled him over.

The heat and the pain, the sweat and the contact all began to blur together as they sparred. She felt the warm embers starting to glow deep in her body.

She had grown comfortable with this man. He was her unruly soul mate. She had seen him naked and aroused, feral with lust. Tall, whip-hard, he'd taken her crying and shouting and laughing and groaning into the endless plunge to that place where they were one.

She had seen him turn heads across the galaxy and he was _hers._

The thought made her feel powerful and dangerous and turned on as all hell.

The thought makes her careless. Mitchell caught her in the jaw hard - enough for her knees to turn to jelly and throw her off balance. Instead of trying to counter it, Vala went with it, sliding to the mat and using her legs to scissor Mitchell's legs out from under him.

Stunned and unprepared, Mitchel went down hard. His breath came out in a sharp gasp as he fell beside her.

Vala rolled on top of him, pinning him with her legs. She waited for him to throw her. She wasn't strong enough to hold him there unless he was knocked dizzy. He had the advantage when it came to upper body strength.

Instead, Mitchell ripped at the velcro on his glove and shook his hand free of it, reached up and let his fingertip trail down her cheek. When he got to her chin he opened his palm and took her face in it. He took a deep breath and let his chest rise and fall so that she could feel it and she slowly loosened her grip on him, relaxing and falling forward. Mitchell became a line of strong, muscled, masculine heat from her breasts to her knees.

Vala looked into his eyes and watched him smile in a wry, knowing way. He had her turned on and unbalanced now and he knew it.

Vala leaned down and kissed him and in a way they were still sparring.

(0)

She was _his_ and he knew it. This woman who had a way to humble a man and didn't take crap, who had probably been born standing up and talking back; a woman who made people move around her, refusing to give ground and who saw more than anyone realized with those incredible steel gray eyes.

For so long he had felt her wanting him, wary of him at the same time. That had given him patience, given him hope. Those moments when she had welcomed him, needed him - those had kept him going, given him a reason to live.

He wanted her now with ball-tightening certainty, to relish the strength and surety of her arms and legs by getting all tangled up in them minus the boxing gloves.

Reading his mind she sat up, dark slash of eyebrows rising. She ripped off the Velcro on her gloves with her teeth and shook her hands free.

He did the same, reaching for her eagerly only to find her reaching for him.

He'd never quite understand why physical confrontation turned her on. But it worked for them as long as he didn't let it get out of hand. She settled down on him and ground them together through their clothing. She twisted and rippled, hard and soft against him all at the same time.

_Damn_, she was strong and she was shaking like she'd gotten feverish. Her hands quivered in his hair as she reached out to take his face between her hands. Her lips were on his and her tongue coaxed his mouth open.

"Vala!" He gasped, twisting under her, pushing her off because he needed to stop this before his thought process became too sex-specific. "We're not doing this here."

She pouted, sprawled on the mat, propping her upper body up with her elbows.

"Then where are we doing it? Gate Room? General Carter's office?"

Mitchell climbed to his feet and reached for her hand to pull her to her feet. His body was clamoring for her like a five alarm fire.

"I was thinking somewhere with some, you know, _privacy_…. Like our quarters?"

"You're no fun at all, Mitchell."

They pulled each other to the elevators and kissed and fondled and groped their way to the room they shared, crushed against each other, devouring and devoured.

They got into their room entwined in each other and Mitchell slammed the door. He picked her up at the same time she was trying to climb him, getting her leg around his hip. He turned and bore her against the door instead, slammed her there hard enough to make it jump in its steel frame, hard enough to feel like he could get through the fabric separating them with the strength of how much he wanted her.

He had to let go of her long enough to pull tank shirts off and get sweat pants out of the way and her hand was on him, stroking, pulling and his head was thrown back and his teeth were clenched with the pure power of it.

He wanted her with the strength of gravity. The first time he had met her all he had wanted to know her like this, to find out what she was like, lost in passion, falling into climax. He prayed to live long enough to find out, just once.

"Vala, baby, _god_, it's too much," he said, and her hand fell away. His breath went out in a rush. He dragged them back towards the bed. His legs were trembling, his nerves were jammed. "God help me, I need to be in you. I need you, now."

There was a rush of heat, of motion, of slickness and thrust and throaty groans, and there they were, her with her long legs around his waist, and him pinning her against the bed by more than the strength of his arms and weight alone. She was hot, she was humid, and she matched him movement for movement.

She had him. He was inside her. It was so good, _fuck_, so perfect. She rose and fell beneath him smoothly. He couldn't believe how deeply she took him, so beautifully, gracefully. If he forced his eyes open he could see her expression, more peaceful than he had seen her, so calm even in the throes of passion. She wasn't the kind of woman to give herself so completely, except for one thing.

_She loves to do this_, he thought, _oh god she really does love this, loves me. _

He thrust down against her, meeting the force of her as she rose up. Had he ever been so wired, so full? His body screaming _take off, fly…._

"Come with me," he begged and Vala arched and gripped his forearms and said,

"_Cameron."_

_Escape velocity. Free and flying, soaring and taking her with him. It went on and on. His spine had melted and pooled in his gut, all that pent-up energy roared in his ears. When the last wave broke it threw them both clear, wrung out with their ears ringing, slack-jawed and dazed. Her lips had found his already, her body pressed up against him. _

_Safe. Home. _

He cradled her tight as they held on, breathless, coming down. He rolled off her and she settled on him. He breathed slowly, taking her weight. She tossed a length of ebony hair out of her eyes and looked up at him.

Neither of them said anything.

(0)

Vala nudged him until he was lying on his side and she rolled over and put her back against his chest. Automatically he curled up so that she was spooned into him. Vala leaned back and found the place below her shoulder where her head always rested.

Their heartbeats slowed until they were breathing in tandem. His warmth soaked into her. She linked her fingers with his.

She let herself sink, slip out of consciousness into sleep, rather surprised that she was smiling.

(0)


	4. Chapter 4

Teal'c stepped out of the stone building on Hak'tyl and inhaled deeply. The air on all the worlds of the Free Jaffa Nation always smelled like freedom to him. He was wearing nothing but a loincloth and the night air was already cool on his skin.

A moment later, Ishta stepped out beside him. He glanced at her but tried not to let her see.

He controlled his smile with little effort, the habit of long years. Ishta had spent the last several weeks resenting needing him at all while she recovered from a broken foot and ankle. She seemed to believe that warrior Jaffa women were not supposed to get injured at all and if they did they certainly did not need a man to tend to them.

Teal'c had simply refused to leave her however. She'd spent the first two days muttering and giving him dark looks every time he brought her something or did something for her. Every time she had tried to get around him he'd reminded her that he had a new set of rights and privileges as her husband. Then he would make sure there wasn't anything within her reach that could be used as a weapon and stayed just out of range until she was done snarling.

He had left her side for a few hours to attend the debriefing on Earth to hear Mitchell's report on the missing colony of Jaffa. It had been good to see everyone and even better to find the colony was not really missing at all.

Daniel Jackson had been busy dealing with a visiting delegation. Samantha Carter had seemed distracted and tired and anxious to go home. Vala and Mitchell had been wired and clearly in need of time alone together.

But he had not really wanted any excuse to stay on Earth. Not tonight. As this night came into being on Hak'tyl and all the other Jaffa worlds, they would celebrate the old traditions – the Feast of Dances. It was a tradition they had kept in secret, hidden from the eyes of the false gods who had been their masters – one they would now celebrate in the open.

"How is your ankle?" he asked.

He heard the sharp intake of breath that meant she was grinding down on her temper.

"You will see in the Dance," she answered.

Teal'c gave her a smile that a flash of white in the dark. His eyes swept over her, cast in firelight and wearing little more than an animal skin that left one shoulder bare and stopped at mid-thigh. Bracelets and armbands of leather graced her arms and ankles.

_She belongs in a world made of fire,_ Teal'c thought. _She belongs here._

Teal'c had long ago given up on the idea that he had a home. He belonged to too many places, too many worlds. Never more so than now when he was blood kin to all Jaffa and could claim a place almost anywhere in the known galaxy.

The only place he wanted was at this woman's side.

They walked to the edge of the town center and into the woods, onto a trail full people using the full moon as light, many carrying drums and going to the same clearing that was also Teal'c and Ishta's destination.

On the edge of the town was a natural bowl that held the StarGate. Surrounded by grassy slopes was the Dance circle, soft dirt carefully sifted and raked and cast in an ethereal glow by the moon.

As the sky darkened and the torches surrounding the circle began to glow, more and more of the Jaffa began to arrive. Some of the older men and women took places on the earth and began to drum. The women's voices rose in an ancient chant, calling the Jaffa. They filled the slopes, flowing up the sides as Teal'c and Ishta moved to the center of the circle and lit the bonfire.

The first Dance was the Elder's Dance. The drumbeat changed and the oldest among them danced the steps that had been danced since the First Jaffa. The Dance ended with the Elders moving among the assembly and pulling out the Children for the Youth's Dance. If the Elder's Dance was filled with dignity and experience celebrated exuberance and energy. The air was filled with their young voices shouting and chanting.

With the Bonfire burning at his back Teal'c flashed Ishta another wild smile and this time she answered with one her own, rare and cherished and always for him alone.

When the drumbeat changed their young faded out of the firelight back onto the slopes and were escorted away by the Elders. The drums became primal and urgent. This was the Dance of Fire – the dance of power, of union. This was the dance of sex. An erotic dance whose steps were not as formal as the others, but blatant and arousing and promising pleasure.

Men and women, couples and single, moved into the circle and surrounded the bonfire. Ishta turned towards Teal'c and her dark eyes were like hot coals. She backed towards the dancers, willing him to follow her, daring him to embrace what it meant to be male and Jaffa.

Teal'c had never been one to turn down a dare. His heart beat in time with the drums. His blood heated. Savage and strong, the Jaffa had come to Dance.

Round and round they went as the drums continued to call them. Sometimes he lost Ishta in the press of bodies and sometimes she was too tantalizingly close. Skin glistened with the heat of the bonfire and the heat of the dance. Chains of conduct broke and melted as they celebrated their sexuality and freedom, their _identity_. Social restraints imposed on them by their former masters burned in the fire.

They danced and Teal'c felt his body filling, flooding with fierce, triumphant hunger – a hunger he saw mirrored in Ishta's eyes as the Dance built to a crescendo and began to fade away.

In groups and as couples, the dancers slipped back into the night. Teal'c seized Ishta around her waist and pulled her close, frustrated even by the simple layers of clothing that separated them. Ishta pressed in tightly, running her hands over his back. There was no way she could miss how aroused he was.

She took his hand and led him from the circle and he wondered if they were going to get back to their small stone house or just find a secluded place in the woods.

Apparently she wanted the house and their bed because she didn't let them stop until they were inside with the door closed and she was dragging him across the floor. She tumbled back onto the bed, pulling him down on top of her, moaning and begging.

Teal'c found her mouth and was kissing and biting and licking through her gasps, and he pushed her back against the mattress and thrust, hard, with his hips and his tongue, and Ishta gave way, melting in submission and adoration and desire. Tongue thrusting under and around and over hers, Teal'c reached out with one hand and caught the shoulder of her tunic, pulling it off in haste. She had already done the same with his loincloth.

He took Ishta in one extended push. Her long sweet groan of pleasure at the penetration made him harder and he thrust long and smooth as her hands came up to claw at his back and her voice fought for words to encourage him. He leaned forward to swipe his tongue through the sheen of moisture on her throat and shoulders, tasted salt and the unique sensation that was Ishta and Ishta alone.

"More," she begged, nearly incoherent and Teal'c sped up and held her steady until every thrust was a soul-shaking, heart stopping ram home.

He felt the tension spread through her body like wildfire. When her voice broke into ragged, high-pitched cries he knew she was right on the edge.

He purred her name into her ear, throaty and full of love, an endearment in two syllables.

"_Ishta."_

She climaxed instantly, an implosion of contractions, her body arching up to his, arms and legs locked around him. She felt Teal'c movements change from making it good for her, from concentrating utterly on her, to the frantic push towards his own release, thrusting into her tight contractions, lifting her to get in deeper, burying his face in her hair.

He climaxed the way he did almost everything – silently and with great intensity.

They melted into a boneless lump. He could feel his heart pounding in time with hers. She was stroking the back of his neck and he could feel the feathery touch of her breath on the base of his throat. But the rest seemed indistinguishable, a contented tangle of arms and legs. A prickle of sensation ran from her skin into his, and back, and shivered away.

"_Ishta,"_ he breathed again and it was the softest sound she had ever heard him make.

She smiled up at him, lazy and content. She entwined her arms around his neck again.

"We are Jaffa," she said.

"We are free," Teal'c answered.

(0)


End file.
